A Secret Meeting
by Saturdaychick
Summary: Continuing the story of Erik and Lisette (the werewolf girl), Antoinette Giry requests Erik join her for coffee and to answer some questions.


**A Secret Meeting**

Antoinette Giry had been planning to go and speak to Erik about Christine and some other things that were bothering her regarding his possibly seeing another woman. She had just stepped outside for a moment before the bustle of the day's activities overwhelmed her when she caught sight of Erik heading towards the downtown shops.

He had returned Lisette to the Lair after a long early morning walk and left her to rest and catch up on her reading , intoxicated as she was by the variety of books on his shelves, while he woud go purchase some necessities for the days to come. Including something he had his eye on ever since he had seen it in a jeweler's window. A tiny wolf carved in topaz and hung on a gold chain.

"Erik!" came a familiar voice, halting his stride. He looked around and saw his friend, Antoinette Giry, making her way toward him. At first annoyed by her interruption of his plans, he remembered how much she had done for him since his arrival after work on the Garnier had finished and he had moved into his Lair. She was his first friend and confidante, helping him with the managers, securing his "salary" as well as Box 5 for his use, despite the squabbles that provoked. She listened to him when he spoke of his love for her ward, Christine, years after she had agreed to his tutoring her as a young girl. And she was there for him, even when he almost destroyed the Opera House as a reaction to Christine's betrayal of him, or his perception of her betrayal, and when he had almost died of a broken heart, she and Nadir, his oldest friend, looked after him and sympathized and scolded him in turns until he was forced to get up from his bed and go back to trying to live just to keep them from pestering him.

So he paused and waited for her to catch up.

"Erik, do you have a few moments for us to talk somewhere? It has been too long, my friend. "

"Now, Antoinette? I was about to run some errands." He looked down at her, puzzled by her request. "Alright. As long as it won't take long. I have things to do."

She smiled up at him, taking in his face with the right side masked, his black opera hat pulled low over that side, and his coat, open, but with the collar raised. The left side of his face was so handsome, that over the years, she had to catch herself from staring at it. She knew what lay beneath the mask, and that the mask provided him with a semblance of dignity that he was too insecure to carry off without it.

She took his arm, "Let's go to Café Maria. They have a back room with a little table that will give us some privacy. I will treat you to an espresso and some of her delightful madeleines."

"As you wish," he sighed, and allowed her to escort him to the café.

Once they were led to the private room, he removed his hat and coat and hung them on a peg near the door, and seated himself opposite Antoinette. She had given the hostess her request and they waited until their order was placed before them and the little door closed behind the waitress.

"What is it, Antoinette?" he asked. "What was the urgency in speaking with me now?" He folded his hands on the table and looked at her, perplexed.

She sipped her espresso, while his remained untouched. "You know Christine is back," Antoinette began, "well, she told Meg and I that she had left Raoul. She has broken off their engagement. She moved back into her old room."

He nodded. His eyes now riveted to her face as she spoke. "She came to see me." He said softly.

"Yes, so she said. She said she returned because she could not face a life without the Angel of Music by her side."

His heart clenched at her words. "Pretty words, Antoinette. But what of the man behind the Angel? She could not deal with this reality," he gestured at his face. "She wanted the saftey of that handsome boy, and his title, and all that went with it. She didn't care that my love for her inspired me to greatness and also to the hell I wrought when she spurned my feelings."

"Yes, Erik. I know. I understand you completely. You know how dear you are to me, despite your impulses and your seeming lack of common sense." She reached across the table and took his hand. "But I have loved Christine as a daughter, from the time that weeping child was delivered to me one late night, not long after her father died. Meg and I comforted her and made her part of our family. It cheered my heart when you reached out to her as her "Angel of Music", promised by her father as a guardian to her once he was gone. And you were that, Erik. You taught her to sing like the angels, like no other soprano I ever heard before. Audiences could not contain themselves in their cheering her performances."

Erik left his hand in Antoinette's and listened intently. It was all true. She was his champion when it came to the Opera, and even when it came to Christine.

"You loved her, Erik. You are a mature man. She was just finding her way to you. She is young. She and Raoul had that whole history between them. You should have let her see that Raoul was not the man she truly wanted. You could still be happy together. You could do such great things together."

Erik removed his hand and folded his before him. He absorbed her insights. In one life, he would have forgiven Christine, would have welcomed her back with open arms. But that was a life without Lisette in it. It was true, Lisette was cursed. In some ways as cursed as he had been. In others, her curse was far worse and life consuming. Yet, she was a bright light in his life. She had won him over with her complete trust in him, her unconcern over his face, her fierce loyalty to him and her blinding, all encompassing love for him that took his breath away. She was beautiful beyond words, though words came to him and she had inspired the most ethereally lovely music and lyrics he'd ever written. So unlike the mad passion he felt for Christine. His Don Juan Triumphant that was possibly the darkest, maddest, most passionate music perhaps ever written.

"It's too late." He said.

"No, Erik. It isn't. Don't be so proud. She loves you. It just took her time to see how much. She isn't eating, Erik. She is despondant. It is affecting her performances. Not that the public notices, but we, who love her, know it. Take her in your arms. You know you want to. She would blossom with your love and guidance." Antoinette spoke so earnestly and yet to Erik, it was only so many words.

"You don't understand, Antoinette. I'm not the man I was. I am someone else, entirely. I have met someone. She knows everything about me. She has seen what lays beneath my mask and loves me despite those flaws. She insists I never wear the mask in her presence. She has lifted my heart and I love her, Antoinette, I love her with all my heart and being and as I have never loved anyone before, not even Christine, because I love her as myself, as the man I always hoped I could be."

Now it was Antoinette's turn to stare at her friend, at a loss for words, as she listened. But she did hear what he was saying. And, she understood. He had found someone truly remarkable. A woman as he had always dreamed of and envisioned. Christine could have been that woman. But she also understood what devastation Christine's leaving him had created. This man had almost died. This genius. Because he could not forsee a life without her.

"If what you say is true, Erik, then I can only be happy for you. Your happiness has meant more to me, at times, than my own or even Meg's. Because, if you had the confidence, you would be recognized world wide for your brilliant achievments, your music, your art, your architectural designs."

"Yes, Antoinette, you are forgetting I have also murdered and been an executioner and a hired assassin. Sadly, some of the world has put a price on my head."

"That was years ago. Even the Phantom and the Opera Ghost have passed on into mythology and legend. No one but Meg, Nadir and I and… and, Christine, know you live. I even think, under the right circumstances, even "Don Juan Triumphant" could be performed. In Italy, Spain, in many Opera Houses throughout Europe and even in America. I am sure they would love to stage your work. They all are in desperate need of fresh, new operas to perform. It is brilliant, Erik."

"I am grateful to you, Antoinette. More than you know. I am happy, in my personal life, perhaps for the first time. I sometimes find it hard to believe." He stood. "I really must go", he said, reaching for his coat and slipping it on, and placing his hat on his head. "My, um… my beloved is waiting for my return. I have some errands to finish before I return home."

Antoinette stood as well. "When can I meet her, Erik?"

He paused at the door and looked back. "Soon. I will discuss it with her. She knows how much you and Meg mean to me."

"And what of Christine?" Antoinette turned to face him.

"We shall see," he said, and with that, he opened the door, left the café, and disappeared into the late afternoon city.


End file.
